Dark Passage Read Online Free PDF Page B

now?”
    “Better.”
    “Much better?”
    “Much.”
    For a while they didn’t say anything. Then
Parry asked her if it was all right to smoke and she opened both
side windows and tossed a book of matches over her shoulder. She
asked him to light one for her. He lit two cigarettes, reached up
and gave her one, then got down under the blanket and pulled smoke
into his mouth. The smoke aggravated the heat that was already in
the blanket. He didn't mind. He found that the thirst was going
away and going along with it was the pain in his elbows and the
back of his hand had stopped bleeding.
    She said, “I forgot something.”
    “You mean you left something with the
police?”
    “No, I forgot something when I said you
weren’t soft, the way I'd expected you'd be. When I said you were
mean. I forgot that you were in a prison for seven months. Of
course you're mean. Anyone would be mean. But don't be mean to me.
Promise me you won't be mean to me.”
    “Look, I told you before—you’re not stuck
with me.”
    “But I am, Vincent. I am.”
    Parry took the cigarette from his mouth,
put it in again and took a long tug. He got the smoke out and then
he sighed. He said, “It’s too much for me.”
    She didn’t answer that. Parry felt the car
turning, going slower, heard the sound of San Francisco coming in
and getting under the blanket. The sound of other automobiles and
the honking of horns, the hum of trade and the droning of people on
the streets. He was frightened again. He wanted to get away from
here and fast. He began remembering pictures he had seen in travel
folders long ago. Places that looked out upon water. Lovely
beaches. One was Patavilca, Peru. Another was Almeria, Spain. There
were so many others, it was such a big world.
    The Pontiac came to a stop.
    CHAPTER 4
    Parry got his head past the edge of the
blanket. He said, “What’s the matter?”
    “We’re at my place. It's an apartment
house. We're on Geary, not far from the center of town. Are you
ready?”
    “Ready for what?”
    “You’re going to get out of the car.
You're going to stay at my place.”
    “That’s no good.”
    “Can you think of anything
better?”
    Parry tried to think of something better.
He thought of the railroad station and he threw it away. He thought
of hopping a freight and he knew they’d be watching the freight
yards. They'd be watching every channel of possible
getaway.
    He said, “No.”
    “Then get ready, Vincent. Count up to
fifteen. By that time I’ll be in the apartment house and the
elevator will be set to go up. When you reach fifteen get out of
the car and walk fast but don't run. And don't be
scared.”
    “What’s there to be scared
about?”
    “Come on, Vincent. Don’t be scared. It's
all right now.
    We’ve reached home.”
    “There’s no place like home,” Parry
said.
    “Start counting, Vincent,” she said and
then she was out of the car and the door closed again and Parry was
counting. When he reached fifteen he told himself that he couldn’t
do it. He was shaking again. This wasn't her apartment house. This
was her way of getting rid of him. What did she need him for? What
good could he do her? She had the keys to the car and now she was
taking a stroll. When he got out of the car he would see there was
no apartment house and no open door and nothing. He told himself
that he couldn't get out of the car and he couldn't remain in the
car.
    He got out of the car and faced a
six-story yellow brick apartment house. The front door was half-way
open. He closed the door of the Pontiac. Then he walked quickly
across the pavement, up the steps of the apartment
house.
    Then they were in the elevator and it was
going up. It stopped at the third floor. The corridor was done in
dark yellow. The door of her apartment was green. The number on the
door was 307. She opened the door and went in and he
followed.
    It was a small apartment. It was
expensive. The general idea was grey-violet, with yellow here and
there. Parry reached for a ball of yellow glass that had a